You Got My Nose Right
by Still Waiting for Aliens
Summary: A little one shot involving Rapunzel and Eugene and art. Sort of fluffy. R&R is always appreciated!


You Got My Nose Right!

Hey y'all!  
>This has been a relatively productive fanfic writing summer for me, but due to the lack of internet in my house my other fics are waiting of upload. This one is the shortest of all of them, so I figured I'd upload it. The plot bunnies got a hold of my brain and said: "No sleep for you until this is finished!". I just finished it, so if there are any errors, I blame it on sleepiness and the fact that I didn't have my sister go over it. If you find an error, just let me know, and I will be glad to fix it!<p>

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><p>Sure, when he woke up, tied to a chair by the blond locks of a girl that had begged him to take her to see the "floating lights", Eugene Fitzherbert noticed that her walls were covered in paintings. Flynn Rider may not have said anything, but Eugene was a little bit impressed.<p>

When they had arrived in the city, the festival in full swing, he hadn't been surprised that Rapunzel knelt on the ground, picked up the chalk and drew right along with the kids, irregardless of getting her dress and hands dirty. Eugene might have noticed her work a little more if Flynn hadn't been caught up in avoiding guards, avoiding attention, and (not that he had meant to, she crawled around as she worked) occasionally staring at her backside. Not that the dress she was wearing lent itself well to letting him really see anything.

After her reunion with her parents, she was suddenly swept into the world of court life, lessons to be learned, etiquette to remember. Eugene saw less of her, and had been forced into his own schedule: service given to the orphanage (a condition of his pardon), and the occasional lesson-lecture from the King about how he needed to behave impeccably, especially around the princess. The moments he was able to have with her, late nights talking, reading together, the walks in the garden (including one very frowned upon splash in the fountain—it had been her idea), the rare, stolen moments when kissing was involved, all of them became more precious to him than all the gold and jewels had ever been to Flynn. Flynn would have never admitted it, but Eugene would: he was falling, had fallen, head over heels in love.

Then, suddenly, she practically disappeared. He would knock on her door, and, instead of inviting him in, and sprawling with him on her bed (oh, how innocent she was to not notice his increasing awkwardness there), Rapunzel would poke her head out, speak to him, then close the door and, if he was lucky, open it again and come out to talk to him, just briefly.

He finally asked, "Blondie, what are you doing in there that I can't see?" Part of him worried she had replaced him.

"New wardrobe, doesn't fit, messy floor," she had mumbled evasively.

A few days later, she was at his door, Pascal on her shoulder, her hands behind her back. She knocked with her foot, trying not to be too loud.

"Here goes, Pascal." She had never done anything like this before. Gothel wouldn't have approved because she didn't quite like this particular hobby.

Eugene answered the door, casually holding a book at his side, trying to look bored and like he wasn't far more than excited at the sight of her, at his door in the far corner of the palace.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she responded.

"Come on in." She followed him inside his little room.

He left the door open, like the King had asked him. Pascal jumped off her shoulder, towards Eugene. Their earlier animosity had been replaced by an awkward friendship. He caught the chameleon and placed Pascal on his shoulder.

"I-I made you something," she half-stammered.

"Can I see it?" He had noticed her hands behind her back, holding something.

She shyly handed the sheet-draped object towards him. He uncovered it.

There, painted in oil paints on an oblong canvas was the most beautiful of all the paintings he had ever seen. It probably could be hung in a museum, right beside the kingdom's best artists, but he was never letting it out of his sight. It was of the two of them, the night they had let the floating lanterns fly into the sky, the night he first realized that he didn't just sort of like this girl, he loved her. The colors were so alive, the feel so warm. He sat on the edge of his bed in slack-jawed silence. Pascal took this opportunity to scamper away to somewhere else.

"I understand if you don't like it-"Rapunzel stammered nervously.

He looked at her. How could anyone not like this? "It's like not that at all. I love it."

"Really? Moth—Gothel never liked my work, said it was 'childish'."

"She was wrong. This is great work. And I presume it's the reason I couldn't enter your room?"

She nodded. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"You did a great job, Blondie," he said, pulling her towards him. "And you even got my nose right."

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><p>There it is, the plot bunnies can now leave me alone and let me sleep. At least until they attack me again.<br>I loved _Tangled_ so much, and I now want to watch it a bunch more times, particularly with my bf, who hasn't seen it yet.  
>I was on the line as to where to rate this. I do make mention of some more mature topics here, so I stuck with the T rating to err on the side of caution.<br>As always, R&R, I'm always on the quest to become a better writer.

Floating lights and ridiculous hair,

Far from the Home I Love


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